


Hydrangeas

by JackyM



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Carlos is a Good Boyfriend, Cecil Is a Good Boyfriend, Cecilos Week, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-20 18:00:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9503636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackyM/pseuds/JackyM
Summary: "But through it all, just- just knowing that Carlos was there. That no matter what else happened, we would come back to each other, holding hands like two kids flirting on a first date."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's Cecilos week and I thought, there is no better way than to write a fan-fiction for my two favorite gay nerds! Cecilos means a lot to me, as a mentally ill lesbian, and they've been such an integral part of the past few years to me. In addition, I have a New Year's resolution to write something over 5k words, so that's what this is going to be!
> 
> I cannot promise any real schedule with this, other than, today is the first day of Cecilos week, so I will upload all four chapters of this by this time next week! Stay tuned! :D
> 
> Hydrangeas, btw, represent love and understanding between two people. <3
> 
> Also, some warnings here for implied/referenced abuse!

Cecil had never been a heavy sleeper. The smallest things had always been able to wake him up, like the screaming rising sun or the knife sharpening trucks at exactly five-thirteen in the morning that slowly trolled down the streets, driverless. It had never been a welcome part of sleeping, especially when he was waking up to a completely empty side of the bed, cold and stiff and lacking the physical presence of the man he loved. It’d been that way for a long time, once. For over a year that side of the bed was empty, and it felt just as empty just as it looked. Once waking up next to someone becomes a part of the morning routine, a change in that is never an easy one to adjust to. But Cecil felt the reason he loved Carlos so much, and vice versa, had much to do with how well they adjusted to things, no matter what those things were. It’s why, even in the coldness of waking up early, alone in a bed two people once shared, Cecil still harbored in his heart the happiness being in a healthy, joyous relationship will bring.

Carlos…wonderful Carlos, who had been back home for just over a year, who snapped back into the morning routine of waking up next to the love of his life and kissing him good morning like he hadn’t been gone at all. So much had changed during their time apart, so much that made their relationship even sweeter, but that inherent sweetness being something that had always been there. Every morning was another day he spent with Carlos, similar and quotidian in some ways, but exciting and new in another. It was why Cecil looked forward to waking up in the morning, even if he was woken up early by something unexpected. 

Cecil had been woken up by the sound of crying, early on a Sunday morning. For a few moments he didn’t register its source, and assumed it was just one of the normal noises a home makes. “Upset and attempting to but ultimately failing at holding back tears”, was, after all, one of the most common noises a home makes, up there with unbridled rage directed towards the fact that French toast exists. But after a few moments of blearily staring at the wall and trying to fall back asleep, Cecil stared recognizing a source of the crying. He turned over and looked at Carlos. Carlos wasn’t facing him, and was curled up and hiding a head under a pillow. Carlos crying wasn’t unusual per se; sometimes Carlos started sobbing during documentaries they’d watch together, in awe of how beautiful space and the much larger void is, or how adorable and exciting the existence of cynognathus is. His excitement sometimes expressed itself beyond the physical limits things could be expressed in, and started flapping his hands and crying while explaining exactly why he found something so fascinating. But as often as Carlos started crying for inspiration’s sake, he also wasn’t immune to the normal feelings all human beings and sentient creatures in general felt. Carlos sometimes woke up excited and inspired, but that didn’t mean, necessarily, something wasn’t troubling Carlos. And Cecil would worry if he didn’t check up on him. 

He reached over, and gently shook Carlos’ shoulder. Carlos didn’t respond at first. Cecil didn’t want to push him, so he took his hand away and just looked at Carlos’ curled up position. He had a feeling Carlos might be upset about something, and had another feeling that it had something to do with Kevin. Cecil was more than aware of what Carlos had gone through with Kevin, and just how horribly painful it all was for him, looking back on all of it. He’d started crying when he really got into all of it, even almost a year after the events transpired. It was hard for him to think much about it, finding it hard to describe it without getting too upset, without feeling a wave of upset and guilt and utter regret. It had, without a doubt, shaken him up. Several months later, it was still one of the things Carlos got very upset about on some occasions. Cecil didn’t want to force Carlos to talk about it, and never would, but he wanted Carlos to know he was there, and that Carlos could talk to him about it if he wanted, to provide support however he could.

Carlos put a hand up on his shoulder, feeling for Cecil’s hand, so Cecil reached out again and took it in his own. 

For a few minutes they just laid there, holding hands. 

Carlos squeezed Cecil’s hand once, and then rolled over to face Cecil, still holding on to his hand. Carlos had definitely been crying; his eyes were puffy and red and the skin underneath his eyes was blotchy. Cecil leaned forward, and kissed Carlos’ nose, gently, and pulled away, putting his other hand on Carlos’ head and weaving his fingers through his hair. Carlos held on to Cecil’s hand, tightly. 

“Hey, snuggle puppy,” said Cecil, softly smiling, “are you alright?”

“Mmmm,” Carlos mumbled, burying his head back into the pillow, “I don’t think so, Cecil.”

“Do you need to talk about it?”

“I…I don’t know. I feel many things right now. They are not good things, and I don’t like feeling them, because they are confusing. As a scientist a part of my job is to try to understandand talk about as much as I can, but there are many things I do not understand, particularly things about feelings that I do not understand. Feelings like this one.”

“What feeling is this one?”

“I feel sad, Cecil. I feel very sad. I feel like I did the right thing, and did something that I should have done, but I still feel sad, and though I have done something wrong to someone else. I feel as though doing what was best for me was a horrible thing to do.”

“It wasn’t,” Cecil said, squeezing Carlos’ hand back, “I promise, it wasn’t. It couldn’t have been easy realizing that you had been unhappy for all that time, and telling someone who you thought was a friend of yours how detrimental to your happiness they were.”

“He said it made him sad…”

“But he made you feel sad, Carlos. He made you feel sad for a majority of the time you were there.”

“I guess.”

Carlos was starting to cry again.

“Carlos?”

“Hmm?”

“Is it okay if I hug you?”

Carlos nodded, and Cecil pulled Carlos in for a warm embrace. Carlos exhaled, and relaxed into the embrace. Cecil rubbed Carlos’ back, and for a few moments he held Carlos, the silence only broken by Carlos’ occasional sniffles. Cecil felt Carlos hug him back, and then, Carlos shifting his position a bit.

“Mmmm…” said Carlos, pulling away and looking around him, “I can’t…find him…”

“Find who?”

“I can’t find Sir Francis Bacon,” Carlos managed, starting to tear up again, “I can’t find him and I know it’s unrealistic but I’m scared _he_ did something to him because _he_ always said it wasn’t productive to have Sir Francis Bacon with me all the time, and said that productivity required not having things that made you comfortable, because productivity is a virtue free of comfort, and I try to be comfortable too often, and…”

The scientist’s words were cut short by choked back sobs, followed by Carlos failing to keep his tears back and starting to cry. He covered his face and managed a few whimpers as Cecil tenderly hushed him, before getting out of bed (with about as much difficulty as chronic pain tends to allow) and finding the stuffed dinosaur on Carlos’ side of the bed. He let out a sigh of relief nonetheless; Cecil didn’t want to think about how upset Carlos would be without a comfort object as important as his stuffed dinosaur.

“He’s right here,” said Cecil, gently bumping Carlos in the nose with the snout of his dinosaur, “see? You just dropped him while you were sleeping. It’s okay.”

“Thank you,” Carlos said, hugging his dinosaur tightly and rubbing tears away with his sleeve, “thank you so much, Cecil. I…I love how supportive you have always been, and how wonderful and passionate you are with everything you do, in your job, and in general. You have always been so kind, and…no, no. Kind is not a good word. Kind is not a good word because I think it hardly encompasses just how wonderful it feels when you understand how I feel and help me, Cecil. It takes a fantastically altruistic person to be like you. And that is a scientific fact, Cecil, a scientific fact that will always be true, like how our lungs are moved by the diaphragm or how the crust sits right above the earth’s mantle and right below the earth’s skin but right above the Earth’s crust.”

Cecil didn’t say anything. He just smiled. It might’ve been a part of just waking up, but he felt tears pressing themselves, hot and stinging, out of his eyes. He lifted up Carlos’ hand, and kissed it once, and held Carlos’ hand against his cheek, just holding it there, just feeling Carlos’ skin against his own and just delighting himself in that fact. His skin was warm, and it was soft, and it reminded him of a tender kind of evening light that made him feel it was okay to not worry if just for a few moments. Waking up with Carlos physically next to him had an inviting kind of warmth Cecil knew he couldn’t find anywhere else. Cecil held Carlos’ hand against his face, feeling how warm and familiar it was, soaking in the silence and placidness of the moment. Carlos briefly interrupted the silence. 

“It feels like it was so long ago…”

Cecil just smiled.

“Time is—“

“Weird, I know,” replied Carlos, smiling back, but then suddenly frowning again, “but it was.”

“It doesn’t matter how long ago it was, Carlos. There’s no time limit on how you feel about all of what happened.”

“No time limit,” repeated Carlos.

“None at all.”

“Time _is_ weird,” Carlos said with a smile. 

“The _weirdest_.”

Cecil pulled Carlos into another hug, and Carlos just exhaled and held on to his dinosaur and on to Cecil. Cecil started rubbing Carlos’ back, while idly humming and feeling Carlos’ soft pajamas, the footie ones with the cute little dogs in spacesuits on it. Carlos’ breathing had completely returned to a normal pace, no longer the wracked breaths sobbing tended to produce. Cecil got the feeling Carlos was probably close to falling asleep again, and rested his chin on Carlos’ head. His hair smelled good; like something warm and fresh. Carlos usually smelled that way, usually mixed with earth and something from his lab. Cecil liked to say Carlos smelled like science, and it was one of his favorite things about Carlos. Too gosh darn cute for words, as Cecil often put it. 

Cecil was fairly certain Carlos was asleep, and was in fact falling asleep himself when he heard  
Carlos’ voice, barely a mumble, but a dreamy one.

“Poot?”

“Bunny?”

“Thank you,” he said, nuzzling his boyfriend with as much force as his tired body allowed, which didn’t happen to be much. 

“Of course,” said Cecil, kissing Carlos’ head. If he’d been more awake, he would’ve said more, and maybe would’ve started waxing poetic about how much Carlos had helped him, and how without a second thought he’d help Carlos too, in whatever way he could. But as much as Cecil loved talking, he felt, at least for the moment, words weren’t necessary. 

In the serene sleepiness of the situation, the calmness that permeated the confined of their shared bed, it wouldn’t take a psychic to figure out that the two of them, even in complete silence, loved each other, and no matter what, would be there for each other. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okiedoke! My next chapter of my Cecilos week fic! 
> 
> I'd have liked to have this up earlier but my computer's charger broke, twice, so I haven't been able to write as much as I would've liked, sorry about that! ;A; 
> 
> Anyhoo, I'm not really paying much attention to the themes for each day. ;w; Mostly because I'm trying to mesh them all into this one fic, and spread them all out as evenly as I can! I hope this is alright!

“Come on, poot,” said Carlos, his voice gentle, “eating is important.”

Cecil hadn’t gone without his fair share of days like this; the kind where he didn’t have the energy to do much of anything. Cecil didn’t have an infinite amount of energy in general, and a general lack of it was, Cecil supposed, just a part of living with the things he lived with and closer to fifty than he was forty. But when he had a lack of will to even get up off the couch in the late afternoon, thinking of absolutely nothing at all, he blanked on excuses. He blanked on reasons for almost all things. He just held his eyes half closed and barely registered the noises around him, not quit sure if he possessed the willpower to do so.

“Cecil,” came Carlos’ voice again, interrupting Cecil from the jumble of incoherent thoughts he was having, “I’m just worried. You said you haven’t eaten anything all day. A mind not nourished is a mind not completely functional. I’m still working on how I want to word this quote of mine and how succinct I’d like it to be, at least eighty-nine percent succinct. I want it to encapsulate how closely your mind and food intake are correlated. Which is to say they correlate quite a bit.”

“Hhhhnnnnnggggh” was all Cecil said in response. He didn’t have the energy to say or even think much else. Something about thanking Carlos for his concern flashed in Cecil’s mind, but he couldn’t really manage anything else. Carlos was well aware of what his boyfriend was probably thinking, or for that matter, what he wasn’t thinking, just due to how that alone might be a bit much for him. Instead of telling Cecil the value of nutrition, Carlos just knelt down by the couch and took his boyfriend’s face in his hands, brushing hair away from it. Cecil’s face wasn’t one of anguish or one of tranquility. It was just expressionless. It didn’t say anything in particular about his mood, other than sheer exhaustion. Carlos put a hand on his boyfriend’s cheek and just kept it there, half in an attempt to check for a fever and half just to feel Cecil’s skin against his own. It was always amazing to Carlos how right it felt. How everything felt wonderful when he was with Cecil and how he had never doubted for a moment that he loved Cecil. How every time they intentionally or unintentionally mimicked the night they watched the lights above the Arby’s Carlos remembered how everything fit together in a way words couldn’t really describe. Perhaps absolutely beautiful and comforting were words that would have to do. He felt so much tenderness just holding his boyfriend’s head in his hands, feeling its warmth and gentle wrinkles there. He rubbed his boyfriend’s cheek with one thumb, and Cecil opened one eye, and mumbled something before closing it again.

“We don’t have to eat now. It’s just,” Carlos stifled a giggle and buried his head into the side of the couch in a further attempt to mute possible laughter, “it’s just _food for thought_.”

Cecil made a noise that sounded like a laugh, but not one with much vigor. For a few moments they were silent, Carlos with his hands running through his boyfriend’s hair and Cecil remaining motionless. Carlos didn’t need to ask if he had a rough day, and in a sense it didn’t matter. When Cecil felt upset, Carlos wanted to help him. Even if some would say it didn’t matter, he’d help his boyfriend with anything he needed. It’s why it didn’t even occur to him to balk at the request Cecil finally made after maybe minutes of pleasant, warm silence. 

“I think…I should maybe wash my hair.”

“You think so?”

“It’s all gross and dirty,” Cecil replied, opening both his eyes and gently holding Carlos’ as it rested on his forehead, “I mean, I’m worried it is. Or could get that way if I don’t wash it.”

“I think it’s fine, right now. But if you want to wash it you should! Instinct works that way and a lot of the time it is very right about what upkeep things we should be doing, as a species that inhabits a body made of flesh with needs.”

“Too many,” said Cecil, moving his head so he could rest it in the couch cushions, “I wish I could say something right now about how awful it is but I can’t think of anything particularly creative. I say a lot of things that describe how awful things are as a living. I feel like I should be able to right now.”

“Once you said that having a body made of flesh and blood and bones is a burden all creatures have, and we pull along in the heat of day and cold of night a body of roughly one hundred pounds and our incorporeal subconscious cries out in our dreams its need to escape and stretch out its nonexistent wings and fly into the gaping hole above the horrendous prospects of life. And then you said that’s all nice and all but if you didn’t have a physical body then there would be some aspects of yourself that some people wouldn’t have the pleasure of seeing and enjoying, and that you are well aware of how _scientific_ flesh and blood and bones-based sources of enjoyment can be in the right time and place.”

“Oh, _you_.”

“What!”

“You know what.”

“Do I?”

“Yes. You know what very very much.”

“As in, I know very very much what scientific flesh and blood and bones-based sources of entertainment there are?”

“Mmm- _hmm_.”

“I do know what those are,” said Carlos, offering a hand as Cecil made an attempt to get up, “I know many things. I am a scientist.”

Carlos handed Cecil his cane, the one with the cat faces all over its body that Abby had gotten him as a birthday present, and without a doubt his favorite. Cecil took it and held on to it, just for a few seconds, motionless. Carlos placed a hand on his boyfriend’s back, for some means of support, felt a faint shaking. Carlos frowned.

“Are you okay?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re shaking,” said Carlos, taking his hand away from his boyfriend’s back, “and shaking is often an indicator that something is not wrong, either physically or emotionally speaking.”

Cecil’s position slid to a more slouched one.

“It’s nothing really,” said Cecil, “it’s just that everything feels like it hurts today.”

“I know. Or, I can imagine feeling the exact same way and know that it would not be a pleasant way to feel.”

“Pleasant it definitely is not. And, well. I don’t think I can make it up the stairs. Not right now, anyways.”

“That’s okay,” Carlos said, putting his hand back on Cecil’s back, “I think the sink will work just fine. I fed it this morning, so I think it’ll be willing to keep its tongue where it belongs. Which is in its mouth.”

“Carlos,” said Cecil, pursing his lips, “what if we started saving up for a chair lift? It might make thing easier when I’m trying to go upstairs.”

“Do you think it’d help?”

“I do. I think it’d help tremendously, especially when moving feels as badly as it does right now, and my doctor said it might get worse then I get older. Maybe I should get it then. I think if I got one now I’d have to start complaining more about how different things are from back in my day.”

“You are so cute,” said Carlos with a smile and a chuckle, helping Cecil sit back down, “and I’ll get the soap for you from upstairs. And also a towel.”

Cecil just sat with his eyes closed and a faint smile on his face as Carlos left to go upstairs. A long time ago, the thought of growing old was one that held a degree of terror in his heart. The thought of dying, and dying alone, were both things that haunted him in darker moments. But the past few years had shown him he was anything but alone, and the future became a still terrifying but less dread-filled thing ahead of him. It became exciting. Getting older with Carlos and feeling the way he did with Carlos for years more filled Cecil with a kind of excitement he’d never felt before, with anyone. The kind of excitement tied with the prospect of sharing a life with someone. 

When Carlos came back downstairs, he had some towels in his arms, and a shampoo Cecil liked saving for bad days, one that smelled like the oils of several different flowers that smelled sweet when mixed together. There was a hint of lavender to it; part of the reason Cecil loved it as much as he did. 

Carlos helped Cecil back up again with one hand, and then to the sink. He used one towel to give Cecil a soft place to rest his head, and then another to wrap around Cecil’s neck, to stop water from spilling on the beautiful, eye-searingly colorful windbreaker Cecil was wearing, a perfect ghost of a time becoming further and further away with every passing year. He heard the sink turn on, the sound of gurgling, and then felt Carlos gently push his head under warm water. He let it stay there for a few moments, trying to get Cecil’s hair wet, gently holding Cecil’s head in his warm, delicate, gentle hands. He squeezed a bit of shampoo into one of his palms, and Cecil felt some of his tension lift when he smelled the familiar scent. Carlos softly rubbed the shampoo in, the feeling of his fingers feeling natural and comforting. Carlos never rubbed too hard, or too softly. He always struck a balance, a kind and solid touch that reached Cecil’s areas of tension but never left him sore. The feeling of Carlos’ hands rubbing a fragrant shampoo into his scalpwith so much care made Cecil’s face flush and legs tingle. Carlos brought his hands to the nape of his boyfriend’s neck, finished lathering, and proceeded to gently coax Cecil’s neck forward into warm running water. The sink gurgled in disgust as shampoo slid down its throat, but it obliged nonetheless. Despite himself, Cecil let out a pleased sign as Carlos rinsed his hair out, running a hand gently through his hair and squeezing the tips of it to get any remaining shampoo out. 

Moments later, Carlos dried Cecil’s hair with a towel and smiled as Cecil wrapped the towel around his head, the way he usually did after taking a shower. Cecil noticed his smiling, and smiled back. He pulled Carlos in for a hug, and Carlos gratefully wrapped his arms around Cecil, and rested his head on Cecil’s chest, his shirt little damp from the towel but still sweet-smelling and ever-reminiscent of how at home Carlos always felt when he was with Cecil and experiencing everything about him that his senses could pick up on. 

“Thank you,” said Cecil after a few moments of just holding Carlos in his arms, “really, Carlos. Thank you _so much_.”

“I love to help people, Cecil. And I love you. So helping you is something I really love to do because I know I am doing something to help someone I love very much. A scientist’s job is really to help people, through science. But why should a scientist limit themselves? I think that a scientist should help people through science, but also, through other things, like kindness or love.”

“Have I ever told you that you’re my favorite scientist, ever?”

“You have told me that, but I don’t think it’ll ever lose the impact it has on me. The impact of course being that it makes me very happy and full of love for you, my favorite radio host, which is something I have told you before, right?”

“Most definitely. And the impact of those words will stay the same for me, too.”

Cecil said his back was feeling better, and he went back to the couch to lie down for a few more minutes. But this time, he’d be lying down in a different state of mind. A clearer, brighter one. A state of mind filled not with dread or concern, but the pure joy of being surrounded by people who he knew cared for him in his life. 

After Carlos finished cleaning up the sink, he quietly slipped next to Cecil on the couch, curled up and warm while pressed against Cecil’s back, one arm around Cecil’s abdomen and one playing with Cecil’s still wet hair. 

For a few minutes they just stayed like that, placid, careless, together. Two people in love, sharing each others’ warmth and kindness as they awkwardly tried fitting themselves on the couch. 

“Oh, honey!” Carlos said suddenly, breaking the silence, “I just realized, you still haven’t eaten, right? Did you want me to start working on dinner? I was thinking of vegan lasagna but if you want something else, like soup or your pizza rolls or a sandwich that’s okay too.”

Cecil rolled over, and gently kissed Carlos. Carlos closed his eyes, and Cecil kissed both his eyelids before pressing his nose against Carlos’.

“Vegan lasagna sounds great, actually.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go!
> 
> Before writing this, I thought I'd maybe write something more dramatic, but it just sort of ended up like this...the kind of thing that's not dramatic at all but still has a lot tied to it? It felt more IC for them both to just sort of bring it up, especially when they've been living together and in love for as long as they have! -v-
> 
> Anyways I hope this is okay!!! ;w;

It happened, and it happened suddenly, with little leading up to it. 

They were sitting on a park bench together, looking at a family of pigeons, especially focused on the smallest one in the group, with by far the smallest crest on its head and least vibrant scales. Carlos had been talking excitedly earlier about them, about their biology, and behavior, and slowly the pauses between his sentences grew longer and longer until they were just sitting in silence together, watching the pigeons pecking at the ground and making low, growling sounds when they sensed their food, miles beneath the surface of the earth. There weren’t a lot of people in Mission Grove Park that time of the day; the sun was already setting and groaning loudly at the fact that it was being dragged down yet again, and most of the movement noticeably by human eyes was that of birds or dark, staticky figures moving slowly from one bush to another, dragging a trail of dead plant matter behind them. It was a relaxing time of day, the perfect time for two people to take a solitary walk in the park and enjoy each others’ company. 

Cecil and Carlos often would unintentionally wind up in the position of the first romantic, physical contact they shared, Cecil with his head on Carlos’ shoulder and Carlos with a hand on Cecil’s knee. This time it was unintentional, but they tended to realize the position they were in seconds after getting into it. And therein lied the shared excitement they had about their relationship, and how happy it made the two of them. 

And then Carlos suddenly brought it up, something they’d both thought about, but also, never really thought about.

“What if we got married?”

Cecil didn’t respond right away; not because he was adverse to the topic, but because he was in a stupor brought upon by love and sunlight. He blinked a few times and then looked at Carlos from Carlos’ shoulder, eyebrows raised.

“What?”

“What if we got married?”

“ _What?_ ”

“I don’t know,” said Carlos, laughing a bit, “it was just something that occurred to me, as all things do, to me, and to other people, but to me in a way that is scientific.”

“ _Married_ , Carlos? You mean…you mean you and me getting married?”

“Only if that is a thing you want to do! I’m sorry, maybe I should have brought that up at another time, or in another way. Something that could have maybe made my asking it more appropriate. But the thing about feelings is they are hard to understand and it is hard to know when it is the appropriate time to say something. Especially when time itself is such a weird thing. Applying a weird thing to an already weird thing just makes something double weird. But that does not mean that now is the perfect time, so I’m sorry if I sprung on you with that.”

“Oh, no,” said Cecil, exhaling, his mouth widening into a smile, “it’s just…you want to do that? Marry me? You really want to do that?”

“There are other ways to express love. Ways aside from marriage. There are always many ways to express the same beautiful thing. People also call the mountain lion a cougar, a puma, a viscous neck biter, a desert scourge of waste and decay, and the winged feline of the underworld. But all those words, though different, describe the same thing. Or how a variable can be used to represent something, and how in the equation of love that variable will always mean the same thing, no matter how much that equation may change in appearance, no matter where it starts or where it ends. So if you don’t want to get married, it’s more than okay.”

“But I do want to,” said Cecil, lifting his head up and pressing his forehead against Carlos, “and you’re right that it’s not a necessity for us to express our love. There are many things we can do and have done already to show that. We’ve started a life together, we’ve moved into a home together, and we’ve shared a life and home together for an amount of time that’s hard to give an exact number to, but can probably be roughly approximated to four years. And those years have been some of the best in my life. There were difficulties, but…those never overrode the fact that I had a man in my life whom I loved, and a man in my life who loved me.”

“You’re using your radio voice and radio words,” said Carlos, feeling his face flush and turning his face away in embarrassment. 

“Because I am deeply in love and very excited about something! I can’t _not_ talk about it.”

“That is one of the things I love about you…you’re always talking and you talk even more when you are happy and excited!”

“I love talking! It’s part of my duties as an objective journalist, Carlos. I have to be talking and stating the facts of things in heavy detail. When something is important to me I have to start talking about it.”

“That’s why you’re so good at your job, right?”

“I like to think it is!”

Cecil’s face softened. Their foreheads were still pressed together, the feeling of one another still resonating and reminding them of the other person they were with, and how much that other person meant to them. For a while they just kept their foreheads pressed together, smiling at each other. The silence could have lasted seconds, minutes, or hours. They didn’t really notice, in the excitement and love they had for one another in that moment. It was what felt like a while later Cecil interrupted the silence after a few laughs.

“Carlos?”

“Cecil?”

“Was this your proposal?”

“Yeah, sort of! I mean, it was not as dramatic as I always imagined it, I always envisioned a lot of blood cannons and maybe some swans and a gigantic fruit bat. But it is not like that because I wanted to ask you if it was something you wanted to do first, because I did not want to spring that sort of a decision on you. We’ve been living together and been sharing a life and home and excitements and sadnesses together for a long time, even in weird time standards. And I have always felt when just holding hands with you while doing small every day things that you are the person I want to spend my life with. Marriage is a word, a combination of verbal noises that create one single noise, one single word, that can describe those feelings. Just one word, out of many. The feelings attached to the word marriage can exist without it, and always will. I just wanted to ask you first if you wanted to call it that.”

“Oh, my god,” Cecil said, exhaling heavily and feeling his eyes welling up with tears, suddenly, with heat and excitement, “I’m not sure why you wanted blood cannons and swans and a giant fruit bat, although fruit bats are adorable and you thinking of them is adorable. What you said was beautiful and…god, I wish I could say something just as beautiful as that. I speak about a lot of things every day and make an attempt to speak eloquently but Carlos, I’m…I’m speechless. There’s only one word in my mind right now and I’m going to shout it also.”

“What word?”

Carlos’ eyes were agog, but excited, more excited than an electron spurred by sunlight and rushing into the photosynthetic system head-on. He knew what Cecil was about to say, but his excitement was brimming regardless. 

“ _Yes_.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALRIGHT, final chapter! :D I told you guys I'd finish it this week! I hope this fic was alright! I'm pretty happy with how it turned out, overall!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who read it!

Cecil had woken up with a hangover before. There where many occasions in which it was a cold, miserable experience, and the light peeking through his closed shades just reminded him that he had to get in the morning. 

But Cecil could easily call waking up next to Carlos the morning after they got married that this was easily one of the best mornings ever, even with a throbbing headache. Though, waking up “next” to Carlos hardly served as an accurate description of how they woke up that morning. They actually woke up on the living room couch, and neither of them were wearing their usual pajamas. Neither Cecil nor Carlos were actually sure of what they were grabbing when they gracelessly took off their extravagant wedding attire and made a clumsy attempt to put them somewhere safe, and replaced them with more comfortable clothes, which ended up being horribly mismatched pajamas. Carlos was awkwardly lying on top of Cecil, curled up in a ball, and the two of them were just barely fitting on the couch. Given Cecil’s sleeping positions, it was even more miraculous that they’d managed to stay on the couch the entire night, with Cecil’s legs spreading out in two different directions and one arm bending in a direction that didn’t seem physically possible. 

Cecil stretched, and move both his arms forward so they were resting on Carlos. Carlos’ eyes were half closed, and Cecil guessed Carlos had woken up some time before him; hangover or no, Carlos was always an early riser. When Carlos felt Cecil’s hands and arms on his back, he opened his eyes completely and smiled. 

“Hey there, newlywed.”

“Hey there to you too, also newlywed.”

“Can you believe we’re married now? And that we had a wedding and everything?”

“I can, because there’s physical evidence of it. But I also can’t because it’s such a wonderful feeling and I cannot believe such a wonderful thing happened. But I also can, because I love you so much.”

“And I love you so much,” said Carlos, taking Cecil’s hands and studying it, gently pressing his ring against Cecil’s. The wedding rings, they decided, wouldn’t be too extravagant, for monetary reasons, but also because simplicity in love meant a lot to the both of them. They decided on simple gold rings with their birthstones in them, right next to each other, separated by a few millimeters. They had decided on this because, as Cecil put it, it beautiful encapsulated how they were two people who shared a beautiful life and home together, and that beautiful life and home was absolutely golden. They decided to use their birthstones because, as Carlos put it, birthstones, though they made little sense scientifically, were really romantic when placed together, and also, rocks were really cool. And an amethyst and emerald placed next to each other in a golden wedding ring for a home really _did_ look cool, and also, very romantic. And, seeing as they just got married, the two of them were both staring at their rings still amazed that such a wonderful thing that just happened in their lives. 

Carlos and Cecil joined hands, and kept their rings pressed against each other. Carlos rested his head on Cecil’s chest, and exhaled, deeply, with a kind of contentedness that went beyond the sore of relaxation he felt every day. In that moment, despite being hungover and groggy, they felt serene and happy. 

“Cecil,” said Carlos, breaking the quiet lull they’d fallen into while holding hands, “I was just thinking of all the moments in which I have thought about how lucky I am to be with you, and how wonderful it is being with someone like you, and how so many moments add up to one beautiful moment which is all the time we’ve been together, sort of like how a bunch of elements can add up and create one single element that is beautiful because it is made up of a bunch of single, beautiful element. There are so many moments that were beautiful, and I know there will be even more beautiful moments in the future, too.”

“There most certainly will be. Now that you bring it up, I’m thinking about all the moments I’ve felt that way too. Do you remember the times you helped me with things I wasn’t able to do at the time, like walk upstairs or wash my hair or get dressed?”

“I do,” said Carlos, looking at Cecil from where his head was firmly positioned on Cecil’s chest, “I remember many of those occasions, and one occasion in particular, when you couldn’t make it upstairs so I washed it in the sink because it was easier for you. I remember I felt worried because of how badly you felt, but I began to feel more happy because of how much you said it helped you and how you started to feel better afterward. I felt happy because you were feeling better, and not feeling upset, and I was able to help you.”

“Oh, I remember that too. You were so helpful and just…wonderful. No, you were _you_ , Carlos. That encompasses a word I think even better and more meaningful than just wonderful.”

“Stop.”

“I mean it.”

“You’re you too, Cecil. You really are. You have been so good at helping me when I get upset about…him…and all of the things that happened when I was away. You have just been so understanding and patient and I love that, and I love you, so much.”

“You’re gonna make me cry,” said Cecil, rubbing the side of his eye with his free hand, “or maybe it’s just the fact that I’m pretty hungover right now.”

“It could be both!”

“Is that a scientific guess?”

“Of course!”

“You know, Carlos…I’ve heard all the time about moments when two married people realized that they loved the person they married, and that they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together with that person. I remember last week Pamela told me about the moment she realized she wanted to spend a happy lifetime with her wife was when the sky opened up and formed a miniature wormhole that only she could see, and gave her a vision of four dying trees in the middle of the ocean, just standing there, covered in wetness and salt. She said it had nothing to do with her wife, or getting married, it just happened when she and her wife were at a drive-in theatre watching their favorite movie and holding hands and spending a normal evening together. It made me think about how every time you and I had a quiet evening doing nothing in particular and fell asleep and woke up next to each other the next morning, and every time we said we loved each other, and every time we made it through something, whatever it was…I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, Carlos. No matter what weird time tries to say how much time that is.”

“That is…it is beautiful, and exactly how I feel,” said Carlos, his eyes getting watery, “though I don’t know if I could say it as well as you just did. You always say things so well, and so succinctly. That is why you are so good at your job, poot. Because you can say things like that!”

“Oh, _don’t_ stop,” said Cecil, coyly, “but really, thank you, bunny. You’re good at your job too. There’s science in everything you say, I think.”

“Isn’t that beautiful? How we are two people with different jobs and ways of speaking and doing things, and how that is okay, and it will always be okay, because although we have differences, we also love each other and we also have so much in common? How we share many things, including a dedication to what we do, and a life, and a home, and a family?”

“It’s more beautiful than the most eloquent words can describe, Carlos. But maybe that’s part of what makes it so beautiful.”

Carlos didn’t say anything, he just shifted his position so he was more comfortably lying down on his husband. He moved himself forward, and gently pressed his lips against Cecil’s. Cecil returned the favor, and a moment later they were kissing each other with the kind of passion two people who unconditionally loved each other were always able to find. 

It was true that their heads were throbbing, that they felt dehydrated, that they felt a little bit dizzy, but that didn’t even come close to taking away how wonderful they felt. The kisses they exchanged were warm, solid kisses. When they pulled apart, breathless, eyes closed, they were both crying. 

Maybe it was because of the bright lights now shining in through the window in the afternoon light, causing their hungover eyes to start watering. 

But that was only a maybe. 

The more likely reason they were crying was because they were husbands loved each other, so, so much. 


End file.
